


wherever I’m with you

by grahamcracker76



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Alternating, Past Biggs Darklighter/Luke Skywalker, Past Leia Organa/Han Solo, Pining, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Protective Siblings, Real Feelings, Sexual Content, a soft epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamcracker76/pseuds/grahamcracker76
Summary: When the Galactic News Networks keep bugging Luke about his love life, Han comes up with the perfect solution: Luke can pretend to date him. The only problem is, Han’s feelings for Luke are anything but pretend. As they go on fake dates and smile for the cameras, how long can Han keep his feelings to himself? And how long can Luke pretend that he doesn’t feel the same?
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 15
Kudos: 143





	wherever I’m with you

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s a fake dating fic because I just can’t help myself. The title comes from “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes.

T H E B E G I N N I N G

CORUSCANT

Han is puttering around his quarters, enjoying a rare moment of quiet when Luke buzzes in and stomps over to his side of the room without so much as a hello.

Now there are some who might object, but the fact is that Han Solo can actually be a thoughtful and emotionally sensitive guy. Okay, maybe not all the time or even most of the time, but he can be when he makes an effort at it. And the truth is that he’s been making an effort more than ever recently, and it’s all because of Luke. 

Luke, who would be off seeking Jedi solitude at this very moment had Han not confronted him and convinced him to stay. Luke, who agreed to room with Han after only minimal begging and wheedling on Han’s part. Luke, who has slowly been opening up to Han and beginning to let Han see through the cracks in the mask of calm detachment he’s been wearing so carefully ever since he came to Han’s rescue at Jabba’s.

Luke, who Han has most inconveniently been having feelings for recently, even if he won’t dare admit those feelings for what they are, even and most especially to himself. Because admitting it to himself makes this real, and it can’t be real. Luke is first and foremost his friend, and Han won’t risk their friendship for anything, not even some vague undefined feelings he’s sure Luke wouldn’t return anyway.

So the fact is, Han Solo can be a thoughtful guy, especially for Luke. They’ve been rooming together for the past few months, so he’s had a lot of practice reading Luke’s moods in whatever small hints of emotion he lets show. It’s become second nature by now, to read Luke’s joy in the small curve of his lips, or his anger in the minute clenching of his fist.

Because the truth is that Luke doesn’t like to let anything show, ever since he’s been lauded as The Last Jedi, the Savior of the Galaxy, or whatever the Galactic News Networks come up with next. So the fact that Luke feels comfortable enough to let Han see as much as he does… well, it means a lot.

It means that Han can tell that Luke is not merely angry as he stomps around his side of their shared quarters, tossing his things this way and that, his face a thunderstorm. No, Luke is not just angry - he’s royally pissed.

Han’s eyebrows go up. “Someone’s angry,” he says, because stating the obvious has always been one of his talents.

Luke grunts, but apparently that’s the end of his response. He starts stripping in quick, efficient movements, first removing his cloak and then pulling his tunic over his head.

Han swallows and averts his eyes, because in living with Luke, he’s had to learn some sense of self-preservation, or he’d have gone mad a long time ago. Instead, he grabs a holopad and brings up the latest news, because only one thing makes his friend that mad.

“Ah,” Han says, scanning the headlines. “You were on the news again.” He clears his throat and begins to read. “‘Luke Skywalker, the galaxy’s newest heartthrob, is single and ready to mingle…’”

Luke makes a noise of frustration, and the holopad goes zooming across the room into his hands. “Don’t read it,” he says, looking at Han with a kind of quiet desperation, “please.”

“Okay,” Han says mildly, “so are you going to tell me what happened, or would you like me to guess?”

Luke’s lips thin in a tight line of dissatisfaction as he tosses the holopad aside. “Any chance of getting you to drop it?” he tries.

Han smiles. “None at all. We both know that whenever something gets you this hot and bothered, it’s my business as much as yours.”

Like gives a humorless laugh and sits back on his bed. “I know I sound like I’m just whining,” he says, flopping down on his back, “but it’s so embarrassing. Everyone seems to expect me to be some kind of worldly romantic expert, and I’m just… not. I was stuck on Tatooine most of my life, and then I was thrown into this and there hasn’t been time for anything else. I mean, it’s not like I’m a complete novice, but I’m just not what they want me to be. Why can’t they understand that?”

“I think they could if they wanted to,” Han says, “but these reporters - they don’t care about Luke Skywalker the person - they just care about you as a symbol, as something to look up to.”

“But I’m not,” Luke growls, leaning up on his elbow and glaring across the room at him. “I’m nothing special... I’m just me. That’s what I keep saying, but no one wants to hear it.”

And that is exactly what makes Luke so special, Han knows - he just doesn’t see it himself, how extraordinary he really is. But then again, if he did, he wouldn’t be Luke, and that is the paradox of it all.

“Well, then you just need to put your foot down,” Han says, “not that it would stop anyone asking, of course. Or, you could always say that you’re seeing someone.”

“Right, because lying will make everything so much better,” Luke says, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he gives Han a deeply unimpressed look.

Han rolls his eyes. “You know, if you want, you could always tell them you’re dating me.”

Luke snorts at that. “You and me?” he asks. “As if someone like you would ever date someone like me.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Han says casually, trying not to let that sting; desperate to not let Luke see just how much he would like to date someone pretty much exactly like him. “We’re pretty good friends, after all - it’s not that crazy to think it might have become something more. We’ve got a good foundation, and the rest you could just make up.”

“I don’t like lying,” Luke insists, his expression stony.

“Then don’t lie,” Han says. “From now on, you’re dating me. Okay? Problem solved.”

Luke stares at him. “What… exactly… are you saying?”

Han doesn’t even bother to hold back his sigh this time. “You don’t like lying - fine. We’ll go on dates, so you’ll have something to talk about if you’re asked. Something real, so you don’t have to lie about it. Obviously we wouldn’t really be dating, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. So: You’d have a ‘boyfriend’ to tell the Networks about; you’d finally get some romantic experience; no one would get hurt in the process. See? Problem solved.”

Luke still doesn’t look convinced. “I’m still not sure this would work,” he says. “You’re really sure you would want to date me? Even if it’s just pretend?”

Han frowns. “We have got to work on your self esteem, kid. Anyone would be lucky to have you - anyone. And look, there’s really only one question when it comes down to it. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Luke says immediately, and something in Han warms at the way he says it - without a second thought, like it’s a fact of the universe itself. “But Han…”

“Nope,” Han says, holding up a hand. “You trust me; I trust you. Well, trust is the foundation of any solid relationship - or so I’ve been told. This is our show. We are doing this on our terms, and no one else’s. So here’s the deal: if one of us has a problem, we come clean about it. If we want to call this off, then that’s what we’ll do. No strings attached, no questions asked. If either of us needs something, we ask for it. Because this might not be a real relationship, but it damn well is a real friendship, and I trust you more than anyone. Okay?”

Luke stares at him from across the room. His eyes are bright, even in the darkness - captivating, just like the rest of him.

There’s a beat - then two.

Han holds his breath. He feels as though he’s just stepped over the edge of a cliff without knowing if there’s solid ground beneath him.

The universe is still and silent around him, waiting.

Then, Luke smiles. “Okay,” he says, and Han’s world begins again.

***

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Luke Skywalker says to himself. He is standing outside the Senate complex on Coruscant, watching the lights of the city twinkle against the dark night sky as he waits for Han. Han, who Luke has agreed to date… or at least, pretend to date, as Han put it.

The worst part is that Luke knows full well how ridiculous this all is - there are a million reasons why this could blow up in their faces. There are a million reasons why this is a very, very bad idea, but Luke agreed to it anyway. Partly, he agreed because he knew it was a good solution, if they could pull it off. Mostly, he agreed because it is Han who asked, and Luke wants Han more than he has ever wanted anything.

But the problem is that it has been months since Han cornered him and convinced him to stay after Endor - after everything. It has been months since Luke finally gave up trying to fight his feelings for Han and learned to embrace them, even if he can’t let them show. Because it has been months, and Han has never given any sign that he wanted something more… until now. And if this is what Han is prepared to give, then Luke will gladly take it, because something is better than nothing.

The problem is, Luke does feel something for Han, even if Han doesn’t feel the same for him. Luke does feel something, and he will need to be very, very careful not to let it show if this is going to work. There are so many ways this could go wrong.

And yet, it is remarkable how all of Luke’s worries and reservations seem to disappear when he feels what he can only describe as a shimmering sensation in the Force that tells him Han is nearby.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Han says.

Luke allows himself a small, private smile. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of Han’s presence flow through him. Then, he takes a deep breath, schools his expression, and turns. “I don’t mind,” he says. “It’s quiet up here. Almost peaceful, by Coruscant standards, at least.”

Han snorts. “Funny - you can’t say the same once you get inside those doors.”

“The meeting was that bad?” Luke asks.

Han waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, the meeting was fine. The ribbing I got afterwards, courtesy of your sister… now that is another story.”

Luke frowns. There had been a rough patch in Han and Leia’s friendship after their very public, very messy split. It was for the best, they both agreed, but that didn’t mean that it was any easier - for either of them. So yes, it had been tough for a while, but things had been better recently, or so Luke thought. “I thought things were better between you two,” he says. “You’re not fighting again, are you?”

“No, things are fine between us,” Han says.”It’s things between you and me your sister was worried about.”

“So you told her?” Luke asks.

Han grimaces. “Yeah, I told her. She threatened me with bodily harm, dismemberment, death by the most horrible means imaginable… you know, the usual. But at least she knows - I just didn’t want her to find out from the holos before she heard it from us, that’s all. She deserves that much.”

“How did she take it?” Luke asks.

“Leia can take care of herself,” Han says. “It’s you she’s worried about.”

Luke frowns. “I can take care of myself.”

Han shrugs. “And that’s what I told her,” he says, “but it turns out your sister can be quite single-minded when it comes to the people she cares about.” He grins, wide and bright. “Runs in the family, so I hear.”

“Don’t I know it,” Luke says, shaking his head. “Now, if Leia knows, that implies there will be something to know, so… where are we going?”

“That would be telling,” Han says. “For now, all you need to know is that even the great Luke Skywalker doesn’t get to miss out on the awkward first date dinner.”

Luke groans. “You know what, I’ve changed my mind,” he tells him. “I’m not dating you after all - you can have your awkward dinner all by yourself.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Han says, taking Luke by the arm and marching him over to where the speeders are parked. “You asked for this, remember. Now, hop on.”

He motions to the speeder in front of them, and Luke almost groans aloud. Of course Han had to choose a speeder that requires Luke to sit behind of him, of course he did. But as Luke reluctantly settles into place in the seat behind Han, he has to admit, if only to himself, that being pressed up against Han does have its benefits.

Han has a very nice back, Luke muses. It’s very warm, and broad, and firm… and Luke’s thoughts spiral out of control. He’s lost in visions of how it would feel to have Han pressed up against him in an entirely different situation, his hands on Han’s bare back as they move together, the heat between them steadily building… but thankfully, the speeder roars to life beneath them before Luke’s thoughts can go any further. 

Luke gives himself a good mental shake and puts his arms around Han’s waist.

“Ready?” Han asks.

Not in the least, Luke thinks.

“Let’s go,” he says.

***

Han takes them to a homey little restaurant that’s more popular with the off-worlders than the natives. He hopes this will put Luke more at ease - he wouldn’t like to run into any nosy Senators here, on their would-be first date. Luke hates politics at the best of times, especially when it interferes with his private life. And it seems his hunch was right - Han notes with relief that Luke does indeed seem to relax when they are seated at a small table in the corner, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as he looks around with interest.

“Han,” he asks, “where exactly are we?”

Han smiles. “It’s a little hole in the wall place I discovered not long after we first came here,” he explains. “The cooks are from all over, so you’ll get food from pretty much anywhere.”

“This is amazing,” Luke enthuses as he studies the menu. “They even have food from Tatooine. I never thought I’d miss it, but haven’t had this in… ages.”

“You want it, you get it,” Han tells him firmly. “This is your night, Luke.”

“Han - thank you for this,” Luke says once they’ve ordered and their menus have been whisked away. “Really. You know you don’t have to do this - any of it.”

“Oh, I want to do this,” Han says blithely, hoping that Luke won’t see how true that really is. “Who better to show you the ropes than me?”

“Who indeed,” Luke says wryly, raising his glass in mock salute. “So - you mentioned awkward first date dinners,” he continues, looking at Han expectantly.

Han clears his throat. “Right,” he says. “Well, if you’re going to date someone, it’s basically a given that your first date is going to be horribly awkward. So you ask them to dinner - a standard first date - and then you’ll usually spend the time finding out all the most intensely personal details of your lives.”

“But why?” Luke asks, frowning. “If it’s so awkward, why do it on the first date, when you’re supposed to be getting to know a person?”

“If you’re thinking it makes no sense, that’s because it doesn’t,” Han says. “I never had much patience with it myself. My guess is, it’s a fast and dirty way to clear the air. If you’ve exposed all your darkest secrets early, there won’t be any nasty surprises later on.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Luke says, sounding unconvinced. “But at least there’s food, right?” he adds, brightening as their plates arrive.

“At least there’s food,” Han agrees, shaking his head. Luke is hopeless at this stuff, he really is - but that only makes him more endearing, at least to Han. I am really and truly utterly fucked, Han thinks, watching fondly as Luke digs into his food with newfound enthusiasm.

“This is unbelievable,” Luke moans, leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed as he savors another bite. “So good. Want some?” he tilts his plate towards Han, who raises his eyebrows.

“If you insist,” Han says, trying to sound suitably reluctant about it, when truthfully, he’ll never be able to refuse Luke anything. Han scoops up a bite, chews, swallows. And then, he’s suddenly gasping for air, his mouth on fire. “Holy krif,” he wheezes through the gasping, burning heat. He fumbles for his glass of water, and Luke presses it into his hand, looking faintly amused. Han gulps it down desperately, sighing in relief once he’s drained the glass. His eyes are watering, and his taste buds are still screaming in protest, but hey, at least he can breathe. “How in the ever loving hells can you eat that, kid?” he demands, staring at Luke with something between horror and wonder.

Luke just smiles, the nerve of him. “Tatooine standard,” he explains. “You’re just not used to it, apparently.” He raises his eyebrows and takes another bite, casual as you please.

Han sputters indignantly. “Used to it? Let me tell you, whatever that is belongs in the center of a sun and nowhere else, believe me.”

Luke shrugs. “I don’t know, I like it just fine,” he says mildly.

“Only because you’re out of your damn mind,” Han grumbles good naturedly, motioning for more water.

Luke looks down at his plate, his lips curving in his typical shit-eating grin, and Han feels his heart thump unsteadily in his chest. He put that look there, he can’t help thinking. He did that, and he can see how easily it could become irresistible, being the one to put that smile on Luke’s face. He can see just how easy it would be to let his feelings grow; he can see just how easy it would be to let himself fall in love. Han sees exactly how easy it would be, and it scares him, because he knows then and there how close he already is.

I have a bad feeling about this, Han thinks resignedly. He has an uncomfortable hunch the feeling won’t go away very soon.

***

Later, after they have eaten their full, they head out onto the street level. Luke loves this off-world center of Coruscant - it’s amazing how he always feels so far removed from the political entanglements of the Senate, out here amid all the life and noise of the city. He feels the Force so keenly here, vibrating with energy from every corner. It is exhilarating, it is exciting, and Luke has never felt so alive. He doesn’t feel the need to wander, though, not tonight. He sticks close to Han’s side, safe in the knowledge that Han won’t read anything out of the ordinary in this - they are supposed to be on a date, after all.

“So,” he says, “you said something about first date edicate involving… what was it? Oh yes - finding out all the most intensely personal details of your lives.”

“Yeah?” Han says, raising his eyebrows. “You trying to say you don’t already know me? You know me better than anyone, Luke - except maybe Chewie.”

Luke flushes, pleased. The thought warms him more than it probably should. “Well, yes,” he agrees, “but shouldn’t we should observe the proper dating traditions anyway?”

Han rolls his eyes, pulling Luke aside just in time before he gets bowled over by a passing runner. And then Luke finds himself pressed up against Han’s side, Han’s arm warm around his shoulders as he keeps him out of harm’s way.

“Thanks,” Luke says faintly, looking up at Han. This close, he can see the flecks of blue and green in his friend’s hazel eyes, the gentle sweep of his delicate lashes against his tanned skin. This close, Han looks soft and approachable, and Luke wants him so much he can barely breathe.

“No problem,” Han says with an easy smile.

Right. Because they’re friends - that’s all this is. Luke can’t let himself forget that. He blinks and pulls away from Han’s embrace, trying not to think about how much he would rather lean in to close the distance between once and for all.

“So,” he says, trying to rescue the threads of their conversation. “Back to those intensely personal details. Tell me a secret?”

Han huffs a laugh, warm and close. He lets Luke pull away, but he doesn’t let him escape entirely, still keeping his arm around Luke’s shoulders. Luke grumbles halfheartedly and tries not to fidget under Han’s gaze.

“A secret, huh?” Han asks. He pauses, his gaze far away. “Here’s a secret for you: I know I’m supposed to be some kind of romantic expert, but the truth is… I haven’t been a real date in years. Sure, there have been plenty of one nighters, but not much more than that. Truth is, I’m just making this up as I go along. Most of the time, I act smooth, but I really have no idea what I’m doing.” He grimaces, glancing down at Luke. “I hope that’s not too much of a disappointment.”

“A disappointment?” Luke echoes. “Never. In fact, I guess it’s comforting, in a weird way.” He grins up at Han, bright and teasing. “Means I’m not so much of an idiot for not knowing what I’m doing after all.”

“Oh, you little…” Han hauls him close and ruffles his hair until Luke twists away, breathless with laughter. “So, that’s my secret,” Han tells him as they go back to walking aimlessly along the streets. “Your turn, kid.”

“Me?” Luke says, “not much to tell, really. But if we’re sharing secrets… well. You already know I don’t have much experience with… this sort of thing. But… there was someone.”

Luke takes a deep breath, avoiding Han’s gaze as his fingers play nervously with a bit of loose string on the sleeve of his tunic. He’s never talked about this with anyone, and certainly not since the Death Star mark one… but if he is ever going to talk to someone, he knows he would want to talk to Han.

“There weren’t many of us on Tatooine back then,” Luke begins. “Biggs... he was a few years older than me, but we were always best friends. He’s the one who first took me out on a speeder and taught me how to fly.”

“Ah,” Han says, “so it was love at first sight?”

Luke shakes his head. “Not exactly,” he says. “It was more… blowing off steam than anything else. Learning the ropes together, you know? It wasn’t some epic romance, but it was fun while it lasted. We had dreams, we talked about the future - we both wanted to join the Academy, learn as much as we could, and then defect together. But, it didn’t exactly turn out that way. Biggs got off of Tatooine before I did, and I didn’t see him again until Yavin, before the Death Star run. And then…”

He can’t go on - can’t say it, even after all this time. But Luke can tell by the sound of a sharp indrawn breath next to him that Han understands. “Ah. He didn’t make it.” Han says. “I’m sorry kid, that’s tough.”

Luke nods, saying nothing - because there’s nothing to say, really. He knows that Biggs was exactly where he wanted to be, right until the end, and that was what mattered. All he can do - all any of them can do - is to try and live as well and as fully as possible, to honor his sacrifice, and all the others who came after him. That is the hard part, Luke thinks. Dying is easy - living is harder.

“I know,” Luke says. “It always seems harder if you really know someone.”

Han sighs heavily. “I’d like to say it gets better,” he starts, but Luke holds up a hand.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” he says. “If I could ask something of you… don’t ever sugar-coat anything with me. Please. Anything you have to say to me, I can take it.”

Han studies him. “Is that so?” he muses. “Well…” he pauses, considering. “What if I said that you look like a man who could use some cheering up?”

Luke blinks up at him for a moment, caught off guard. Han has obviously made the split second decision to change the subject, and Luke has to say he is glad of it. It’s a clever trick, really, that Han always seems to know his mind before he does.

“If you did say such a thing, there is a small chance I might agree with you,” Luke responds, his lips curving in a reluctant smile.

“Excellent,” Han says firmly. “Back to the speeder, then? I’ll even let you take a turn at the wheel.”

“You really know how to make a man swoon, don’t you,” Luke says, shaking his head. But he lets Han tug him back towards the speeder anyway. And as he clambers into the front seat, he’s laughing again, and that is the best part of being friends with Han Solo. The fact is, Luke’s life makes no sense sometimes, and neither do his friends - but at least they can make him laugh when he needs to.

So as Luke angles the speeder up into the sky, he feels his worries slipping away behind them. Because right now, he is exactly where he wants to be, flying high with Han’s presence all around him. He is exactly where he wants to be, and that’s what matters, in the end.

***

Leia Organa rarely gets the chance to sleep in, so when the opportunity arises to do just that, she likes to take full advantage of it. Unfortunately, the universe often has other plans in store for her, which regrettably do not seem to include large amounts of sleep. It is because of this fact of life that Leia finds herself rudely awoken not by her alarm, which she knows was set at a reasonable time for once, but instead by the insistent beeping of a very determined droid.

“Go away, R2,” she mumbles, pulling her pillow over her head. “‘M sleeping, see?” R2 is not deterred in the slightest, to absolutely no one’s surprise, so she groans and peeks at him blearily. “Yes, I know I’m not now, thanks ever so much,” she says, pushing herself up and yawning widely. “What time is it, anyway?” R2 beeps a response, and Leia puts her head in her hands. “And you felt the need to wake me at 0500 why exactly?” she asks. The droid makes a whirring noise and displays a holo - several holos, actually. Leia blinks and takes a closer look.

They all seem to be images of Han and Luke, or so it appears. There are blurry images of Han and Luke sitting at a table together, Han and Luke walking side by side, Han and Luke pressed up against each other, as Luke stares into Han’s eyes. They both look… happy, she thinks. Deliriously happy, in fact. Leia smiles as she studies the images carefully, her eyes lingering on Han’s easy smile and the look in Luke’s eyes, the way he’s leaning into Han just so.

And she’s happy for them, she really is. She accepted a long time ago that she and Han were never going to work, no matter how much they both wanted to. Ever since, she’s been watching carefully, and the simmering air of unfinished business between her brother and Han has not escaped her notice. In fact, she’s had a hunch that something like this might happen, even before Han told her about his plans to start dating her brother.

So now that it has happened… well, she’s not surprised. Han and Luke have been caught in each other’s orbit for so long that it was only a matter of time before something had to give, and apparently, it finally had. The only question was how to deal with the fallout when it came, if it wasn’t already here.

“R2…” she says, already dreading the answer, “when did these images start circulating?” R2 tells her, and yes, it is exactly as bad as she feared. “Great,” she says. “And I assume we already have an astronomical number of media requests coming in?” R2 confirms, and beeps a question. “No, I do not want to hear the exact numbers, I can imagine well enough,” Leia says, doing some quick thinking. It looks like they’ll need to do some damage control, and do it quick. “R2? Give me a minute to get dressed and then we’ll go kick their butts into gear. Ok?”

R2 warbles at her and zooms over to wait by the door, sending her the clear message not to be too long about it. Leia rolls her eyes, feeling fond and exasperated all at once. She sighs, and rubs the sleep out of her eyes. It looks like it’s shaping up to be quite a day, and it hasn’t even properly begun yet. But that’s her life, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

Luke is woken that morning by two things: first, the insistent beeping of a determined droid, and second, the shock of being walloped by a pillow several times in quick succession. He gasps and flails, trying to get some sense of what in all nine hells is going on here, only to be greeted by another mouthful of pillow as it whacks him again, and said pillow is wielded by… his sister?

“What the… Leia?” he says, holding up his arms to block another attack. “R2? What are you doing here?” He glances over at Han, who looks just as confused as he is, squinting and blinking at them sleepily.

“I’m here because your ‘night on the town’ has made quite the splash in the Galactic News Networks,” Leia says, “and we’ve got about a million interview requests already, so you two are going to have to do some serious damage control whether you like it or not.”

Ugh, Luke thinks, flopping back down on the bed and squeezing his eyes shut. Damage control. That harsh reality of the term feels far too clinical for what had really happened. As if they’d done something that needed to be explained away, when all he’d done was spend time with Han. But over the years, he’s learned that this almost obsessive need the News Nets seem to have to learn every detail of their lives isn’t something they can simply avoid, no matter how much they might wish they could.

He remembers being surprised by it at first: the constant barrage of intrusive questions and endless curiosity they were met by from every corner, especially after Endor. On the one hand, there were all the people who saw him as some kind of hero or role model, someone to look up to. Still others seemed determined to criticize his every move, no matter what he did. Eventually, Luke learned to ignore and deflect what he could and to pay the attention no mind, positive or negative. Their lives were complicated enough without getting caught up in what everyone else thought of them. But sometimes, it seemed the universe had other ideas.

“Okay,” Luke sighs, sitting up to face his sister, “how bad is it?”

“Not that bad, for the most part,” Leia says, handing him a holopad to scroll through. “Mostly, people are just overwhelmingly curious, which is why you two will need to say something before everyone gets too out of hand.”

“I know, I know,” Luke says, shaking his head. He looks over at Han, who’s been unusually quiet during the whole exchange. “You okay with this? he asks, to which Han merely raises his hands.

“Hey, I don’t like it any more than you, but I’ll go where she tells me to,” he says. “You won’t get any argument from me.”

Leia nods, apparently satisfied. “Excellent,” she says. “Then I’ll set something up for you. Get yourselves ready and I’ll send you the details, okay? And boys,” she adds as she heads towards the door, “have fun at the caf today.” She winks and leaves with R2, the door shutting behind her.

Han bursts out laughing, and Luke moans, putting his head in his hands. He’s forgotten how fast gossip travels here on Coruscant - Leia’s right to assume that everyone will already know everything by the time they make it down for breakfast.

“Kill me now,” he groans, and Han just shakes his head.

“No chance in hell,” he says, “who else would suffer through the caf breakfast with me? Up and at ‘em, kid.”

Luke grumbles, but slides out of bed anyway. “First shot at the fresher?” he asks.

“Only because I’m such a good fake boyfriend,” Han says.

“The best,” Luke agrees, more seriously than he cares to admit. He wonders what Han would be like as a real boyfriend - probably even more wonderful and unpredictable than he is now. Luke decides not to dwell on it. Above all, Han is his friend, and that ought to be enough for anyone. He gets into the fresher with a newfound sense of determination, and firmly turns the water cold. It’s going to be a very long day.

***

After suffering through what was possibly one of the most awkward meals ever, complete with barely concealed staring and whispering from every corner, Han and Luke make their way to Coruscant’s media center. As they wait in the green room, Han sticks his hands in his pockets and hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. Nothing to worry about, really - he’s only about to pull the most elaborate double talk of his life, telling just enough of the truth to sound plausible to the News Nets, while hiding enough of his real feelings so as not to arouse suspicion in anyone who really knows him. See? Easy as pie.

Taking a deep breath, Han looks over at Luke, not that a view like that does anything for his sense of calm. He’s constantly caught off guard by the sight of Luke in his Jedi blacks. Luke wears the outfit like a suit of armor, as if it’s a physical talisman that helps him draw on his mask of calm detachment.

Because Han knows that’s what it is - a mask. He knows that the bright sunshine kid he met on Tatooine is still there, hidden carefully beneath Luke’s public persona. He knows this, and the very fact that he knows this feels like something unaccountably precious, because in letting him see his true self, Luke is trusting him with his very soul.

But Han can’t allow himself to think like this now, when he’s supposed to be hiding important truths from everyone, especially himself. Instead, he clears his throat and quips a joke, because this at least feels easy, familiar. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire, huh?” he asks. “You ready for this, kid?”

Luke shoots him a sideways glance and huffs, fiddling with his cuffs and pulling at his collar. “What?” he grumbles. “Do I look as uncomfortable as I feel?”

“You look nice,” Han says automatically, without even thinking about it. Then, he realizes what he just said and he bites down hard on his lip as he feels himself flushing with embarrassment.

Of course, it’s true, what he said - Luke looks good enough to eat. Han would certainly like to put that to the test, to taste him thoroughly in places he probably shouldn’t be thinking about just now. His mouth waters just looking at him, his insides going all hot and shivery with desire, with hunger and need.

But he can’t just say things like that, and yet he keeps slipping up. For a terrifying second, he’s worried that he’ll be found out, and everything will be ruined, in this precarious new balance they’ve reached. But Luke doesn’t seem to notice anything - he just purses his lips and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t make fun,” Luke says, “it’s not well done of you.”

He turns, his expression shuttering, and Han’s heart lurches in response. For a moment, he considers explaining that he hadn’t been making fun at all, that he had in fact been completely serious. For one wild moment, he imagines telling Luke everything, confessing the truth of his feelings right then and there. But the vision passes, and Han remembers that Luke is his friend, and he should damn well act like one, no matter what else he might feel.

Han swallows his pride and takes Luke by the elbow, turning him to meet his steady gaze. “I’m sorry,” he tells him. “I wasn’t making fun - really.”

Luke studies him for a moment, and then the tightness in his expression clears, smoothed away by the truth in Han’s words. Even so, Han can see the worry that still lingers in his eyes, belying Luke’s discomfort with this whole situation.

“Hey,” Han says softly, “you know you will be fine, right? No matter what happens in there.”

Luke huffs. “I think you’re being… overly optimistic,” he says, avoiding Han’s gaze. He’s trembling slightly, Han can feel it where he’s holding on to Luke’s elbow, and this is something he cannot let stand.

“Luke,” he says, trying to meet his friend’s gaze. “Hey. Listen to me.” Failing to get Luke to look at him, he sighs, cupping Luke’s face between his hands and resting their foreheads together until they can’t help but look into each other’s eyes. “You can do this,” he says, because it’s true. “And when it’s over, you’ll still have me to come to, whatever happens. Okay?”

Luke sighs, and closes his eyes. He nudges forward slightly, until their noses brush together, and brings his hands up to cover Han’s, lacing their fingers together. And then Luke opens his eyes again, and he’s all Han can see - he’s dazzling, every part of him. “Say it again?” he asks, his breath fanning warm against Han’s lips, his eyes searching Han’s.

As if Han would ever refuse anything that Luke asked. His mouth dry, Han swallows, because this is important; he knows it deep in his bones. This, he has to do, and damn the consequences.

“Whatever happens,” Han promises, unable to hide the pure reverence in his voice.

Luke swallows, and angles his head up towards Han’s until there’s barely a feather’s distance between them. Han freezes, his heart pounding loud in his ears, every nerve on fire. They are so close they could almost be kissing, and still neither of them is making any move to pull away. Suddenly, for the life of him, Han can’t think of any reason why they should.

“Han…” Luke says, a whisper and a prayer. He’s been the one to lean in, and it only remains for Han to close the distance between them once and for all. Han takes a deep breath. He strokes Luke’s cheekbone with a gentle thumb. He leans forward…

Then comes a sharp knock on the door, and they spring away from each other. “Gentlemen, you are on in five minutes,” a voice informs them from behind the door. “General Solo will go to studio one; Jedi Skywalker will go to studio two. Please make your way there directly.”

Damn it all, Han thinks. Of course this had to happen at the worst possible time. He glances over at Luke to find him already looking back. He looks a bit shy, perhaps, but he no longer looks nervous. He looks… certain, Han decides, like something in him has finally settled. Luke gives him a small smile, and Han smiles back, helpless against the happiness that swells within him at the sight.

“See you after?” Luke asks.

“Whatever happens,” Han agrees.

***

Luke returns straight to their quarters after storming out of the media center. Once inside, he yanks off his cloak with shaking fingers. His breath comes in sharp gasps, his emotions swirling within him like a dark thundercloud, everything in him threatening to set loose. Luke knows better than anyone that he can’t let that happen.

Instead, he closes his eyes and takes deep breaths, feeling the energy of the Force around him and in him. He breathes in the calming energy of the Force, and breathes out the tangled mess of his anger and frustration that’s threatening to overwhelm him. He imagines the storm of his emotions calming, until the angry swirl calms and smooths away on the wind. He imagines being warmed by the sun, a steady presence that somehow feels a lot like Han. He focuses on feelings of lightness and love, instead of darkness and anger. That, at least has always been easy, especially whenever he thinks of Han - Luke has just never fully realized what it meant, before.

He opens his eyes, feeling somewhat calmer. His fingers are steady, no longer shaking with anger. Good. He reaches for the belt with his saber, unhooking it and setting it gently on his desk. Right now, he just needs to be himself for a while, with no other titles or expectations.

He steps onto the ledge outside their window and looks out over the rush of Coruscant around him, all the buildings and speeders and people, each of them preoccupied with their own lives, their own thoughts and feelings. He sits down on the ledge, his legs dangling over the side, and closes his eyes, savoring the warmth of the sun and the wind on his face. He sighs and lets the minutes pass by, flowing on like an endless river.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he hears the window slide open behind him, along with the rustling and good natured grumbling he knows well.

“Hey, kid,” Han says, sitting down next to him. “You pick the strangest places to hang out, don’t you?”

Luke smiles, looking over to see Han grinning crookedly back at him. “I don’t hear you complaining,” he says.

“No, you don’t,” Han agrees easily. He shrugs, scooting in close to him on the ledge, until they’re nearly touching. Nearly, but not quite, and anticipation races through Luke, a breathless thrill.

He inhales deeply, and smiles. “You smell amazing,” Luke says. “Like spice and hot grease.”

Han’s mouth twitches. “Thank you,” he says gravely. “Although that might be the food, you know.” He reaches over to a large plastic bag he’d brought with him, dangling it teasingly in the air between them.

Luke gasps and grabs the bag, looking into it eagerly. Inside are nearly a dozen little cartons, each one smelling hot and delicious. “You brought me food?” he says. “You are officially my favorite person in the galaxy.”

Han nudges his shoulder playfully. “That,” he says, “we already knew. And I brought us food, thank you very much,” he adds, snagging the bag away from Luke and setting it between them.

Luke rolls his eyes and fishes through the cartons until he finds a set of chopsticks and a spicy chicken and rice mix. “So,” he says, “what brings you back here so soon?”

“Leia was worried when you pulled your disappearing act,” Han answers mildly. “I think she thought you would stick around after the interview. Unless something happened?”

Luke grunts in response, focusing on digging through his carton of food. He can feel Han’s gaze on his face, and it’s hard to resist telling him everything.

“Luke?” Han asks, his voice soft. “What happened?”

Luke lets his breath out in a huff and shakes his head. He’s never been any good at this sort of thing. He automatically wants to deflect, to change the subject to safer topics. He looks at Han, ready to do just that, only to find Han gazing back at him, level and steady, ready for anything he has to say. Luke’s heart thumps unsteadily in his chest, and he swallows, his throat tight.

“What do you want to know?” he asks.

“Everything,” Han answers easily. He reaches over to sneak a bit of grilled fish straight from the carton in Luke’s hands. “Anything you want to tell me.” He pops the fish into his mouth, and Luke’s gaze lingers on his lips, and the bob of his throat as he swallows. Han meets Luke’s gaze steadily, raising his eyebrows in a clear challenge.

Luke shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. He takes a deep breath and starts talking. By the time he runs out of words, they’ve nearly run out of food, too, the empty cartons scattered beside them. Feeling pleasantly full, Luke leans back and tips his head towards the sun, letting contentment wash over him.

“Thanks for listening,” he says quietly, looking over at Han.

“Any time,” Han tells him, looking back at him with a quiet intensity that takes Luke’s breath away.

There’s a beat of silence, and the moment stretches between them. It brings Luke back to that moment of intimacy they had shared in the green room, when he had been so sure that Han was going to kiss him.

“Han,” Luke begins, not sure how best to bring up the subject. “About what happened…”

Almost immediately, Han jerks away, his expression shuttering, his lips pursed tight. “It was a mistake,” Han says shortly, looking down at his hands. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable; I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I don’t want this to get in the way of our friendship.”

“Is that what you think?” Luke asks in amazement, staring at his friend with a new understanding. All this time, he’d thought it was Han who had been indifferent, when all the while, Han had simply been worrying about Luke’s feelings more than his own. Suddenly, he feels like bursting out in laughter, giddy and breathless. He feels lighter than he has in ages, really.

“Han…” Luke says, hopelessly fond. He reaches out to where his friend is twisting his fingers nervously in his lap, sliding their fingers together easily. He feels the moment when Han’s breath catches, and he looks over to Luke, hardly daring to hope.

Luke takes a deep breath, and smiles. “Han, if it doesn’t happen again, I will be very disappointed indeed,” he says.

Han stares at him, his eyes bright. “So you’re saying that you really…”

“Yes,” Luke answers, nodding. He squeezes Han’s fingers gently.

Han frowns. “But I thought you didn’t…”

“And I thought you didn’t,” Luke says. “I guess we were both idiots.”

“I guess so,” Han agrees, staring down at their joined hands in wonder. His smile widens, his lips twitching until laughter bubbles free. Then, they’re both laughing - laughing until their sides are bursting with it, laughing until they’re left breathless with equal parts joy and amazement.

“C’mere, kid,” Han says, using his grip on Luke’s hand to tug him closer, heedless of the cartons knocked to the side between them. Luke comes willingly, until he’s leaning into Han’s warmth, until they’re sharing the same air. Shivery with anticipation, he looks up into Han’s eyes to see the wonder he feels reflected back to him. With a gentleness Luke did not know his friend possessed, Han reaches up to cup his face with the hand that’s not entwined with his. His eyes on Luke’s, Han leans in until their foreheads rest together, an echo of the moment they’d shared before.

“Han,” Luke whispers, “kiss me.”

Han looks at him through his lashes, nudges forward, and kisses him. Han kisses him soft and slow, learning the shape of his mouth with reverence and amazement, his fingers sliding into Luke’s hair to hold him close. Luke moans and presses even closer, coaxing Han’s lips open and seeking out his tongue with his own. Han makes a low, desperate sound, and the kiss turns deep and dirty, fueled by all the built up longing and desire over countless days and months and years. The fire builds between them, and Luke could do this forever, kissing Han hot and messy, kissing him with all the single minded dedication he deserves. Luke kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him, until they’re breathless with it and they break apart, wide-eyed and panting.

“Luke…” Han’s eyes are fathomless, pupils blown wide as he searches Luke’s face. Tracing the shape of Luke’s mouth with a gentle thumb, Han leans in to capture his lips once more, but Luke pulls back a fraction, stilling him with a single look.

“Han,” he says, “before we go on, there are things that need to be said.” He looks down at their joined hands and swallows, his throat suddenly tight. He knows what he has to say, he just needs the strength to say it.

“Luke?” Han asks, puzzled but curious.

Luke sighs and begins to speak. “You have to know,” he says, “that I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want whatever we share to… cage you, to bind you. I can do casual, if that’s what you want. I won’t ask for vows, or promises, or declarations. Just tell me what you want, and I will give it to you.”

There is a brief pause, if only for a second, and then Luke feels Han’s fingers squeeze his own. “Because you love me,” he says quietly, like it’s a simple matter of fact, like it’s a building block of the universe, like it’s a truth his life revolves around. 

Luke’s breath catches in his throat, and he raises his head to find Han looking back at him, calm and steady. He nods, because he can’t bear to hide this away any longer. “Because I love you,” he agrees, the truth of it bursting forth like a sunbeam after a storm.

A smile breaks free across Han’s face in response, and it’s hopelessly contagious - soon, they’re both smiling until their cheeks ache with it, until they’re holding each other close, half laughing, half crying. Finally, they come up for air, and Han brushes tears of joy from Luke’s eyes.

“Well,” he says, “what if I told you that ‘casual’ is the last thing on my mind? If I told you that I wouldn’t mind a promise or two? That I’m already bound to you, in ways I couldn’t imagine? And here’s a declaration for you: I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes on Luke’s, Han brings up their joined hands to brush Luke’s knuckles with a gentle kiss. “You could never cage me, Luke,” he says softly. “You set me free.”

Luke stares at him, this beautiful man who’s just laid bare everything he is, offered up more than Luke could imagine.

There’s only one response to that.

Luke kisses him.

***

They stumble back inside, both of them made clumsy with desire. Their lips are locked together, plundering each other’s mouths as two pairs of hands fumble with clothing, desperately seeking out the heated skin beneath. Luke’s hands find Han’s skin first, sliding up Han’s sides to pull his shirt over his head. Han does the same, finishing with the endless buttons of Luke’s shirt and pushing it off his shoulders.

Han steps forward and cups Luke’s face in his hands, kissing him hard and fast with all the desperation of the urgency he feels. Luke groans into his mouth and deepens the kiss, welcoming Han further, asking for more. Han feels the strength of Luke’s desire in every touch, in every stroke of his tongue, and he’s dizzy with it, the knowledge that all of this is for him.

Luke’s tongue continues the exploration of his mouth with single-minded intensity, and it’s all Han can do to keep up. When his fingers struggle with Luke’s trousers, Luke realizes what he’s doing and steps back to help, quickly divesting Han of his pants and kicking his own to the side.

Then with nothing left between them, they’re skin to skin and it’s wonderful, hot and slick and warm. Han slides his palms up Luke’s back, reveling in the feel of corded muscle beneath supple skin. Luke shudders under his touch and turns his face into Han’s shoulder, sucking a bruise into his neck, tasting him with lips and teeth and tongue. At the same time, Luke’s fingers play with a nipple, teasing it to hardness with a clever touch. Then, Luke grins up at him before replacing his fingers with his mouth, all wet suction with teasing nips of his teeth and flicks of his tongue. Driven to distraction, Han bites out a curse and slides his fingers into Luke’s soft hair, angling his face up to claim his lips once more.

When they break apart, they’re panting into each other’s mouths, and Han strokes the corner of Luke’s lips with his thumb. He’s hot and hard all over. He can barely breathe, can barely think, and it’s all because of the man before him. Han can hardly believe his good fortune.

“You keep that up and I’m not going to last much longer,” he says, breathless with amazement.

Luke smiles, and tugs him towards his bed. “Then maybe we should slow things up,” he suggests, pushing Han down and climbing over him, “see exactly how patient you can be.” Luke kisses him, light and teasing, keeping just out of reach. At the same time, he slides a hand down Han’s chest to curl posessively around his cock, his eyes fixed on Han’s face as he strokes him to full hardness, leaving Han gasping with it. And then he pulls back, his lips inches from Han’s, his breath hot against his face. “I am told that patience is a virtue,” Luke says, his face alight with laughter, his smile so infuriatingly smug that Han wants nothing more than to kiss him - so he does just that.

He leans in to fit his lips to Luke’s, tangling their tongues together and kissing him as deep and dirty as he wants to. Han slides his palms from Luke’s shoulders down his back, drawing them even closer. Luke shivers under his touch and whispers his name, again and again. He fits their hips together and Han gasps as fire races up his spine. He spreads his legs to let Luke sprawl between them and grasps Luke’s buttocks, the smooth skin yielding beautifully beneath his hands. Sweat slips between them as they rock in tandem, and as even as Han holds Luke close, he knows it is not close enough. He knows he wants him closer still.

With a grunt, Han pushes up to roll them over. Luke blinks up at him, his hands carding through Han’s hair as a smile curves his lips. “Getting ideas, pirate?” he asks.

“Always,” Han whispers, brushing their lips together, pressing a line of kisses up his jaw and over to his ear. “Do you have the things we need?” he asks with intent, his teeth nipping lightly at Luke’s earlobe, softening the sting with his tongue.

Luke groans and arches into him and oh that’s interesting, Han thinks as he nibbles down Luke’s neck. “Right… here,” Luke says, flailing behind him.

Han sucks at his neck and Luke swears in frustration, the fingers of his other hand tangling in Han’s hair. Han lifts his head, and Luke glares at him, panting and breathless. Han smirks, his lips twitching. “Yes?” he says, and Luke rolls his eyes, his breath leaving him in a rush. His eyes on Han’s, he holds up a hand, and a little tube and a plastic packet fly neatly into his grasp.

Han raises his eyebrows. “Nice,” he says, as Luke presses them into his hands and spreads his legs, both an offer and a demand. Han unscrews the bottle and coats his fingers liberally with the scented oil. “That an approved use of the Force?” he asks, “‘cause I can get behind that.” Luke just laughs and pulls him in, kissing him wet and messy and desperate.

Han pulls away with a lingering suck to Luke’s lower lip and slides down his body, learning him with lips and teeth and tongue. When he finally slides a slick finger inside him, Luke’s hands clench tight against the rumpled sheets, and he melts back into the pillows with a groan. Han adds another finger, relaxing the tight muscles even further, and Luke props himself up on his elbows to watch, his eyes fixed on Han’s face. Han quirks a smile. “Enjoying yourself?” he asks, and Luke slides his fingers through Han’s hair, traces his jaw with a feather-light touch.

“I could be enjoying myself more,” he says, “if you would just get on with it already.” He brushes his fingers against Han’s lips, and Han shudders at the intimacy of it, turning his head to press his lips to the inside of Luke’s wrist.

“Is that right?” Han says, “I seem to remember someone telling me that patience is a virtue.”

Luke laughs, sliding his feet up and down along Han’s sides in an entirely distracting manner. He curls his hand around the back of Han’s neck, urging him up. “Sometimes, patience is overrated,” he says. “Come here.”

And Han can’t refuse a request like that, not when it’s what he wants, too. He moves back up Luke’s body, kissing him luxuriously, losing himself in the endless push and pull, the give and take between them, built on years of trust and friendship and love.

When at last he can’t wait any longer, Han kneels back, closing his eyes as he strokes himself a few times. He reaches for the little plastic packet he’d discarded earlier and tears it open, the sound loud in the silence filled only by their mingled breathing. Luke watches him all the while with that steady gaze, anchoring him, drawing him in. Take me, his eyes say. I want you. I need you.

Truth is, Han wants him too.

There’s only one thing left to do. He rocks into Luke in one long, slow slide. Luke’s eyes slip closed in response, his hands twisting in the sheets.

“Okay?” Han asks, pressing kisses everywhere he can reach - Luke’s temple, the side of his nose, his closed eyelids. He twines his fingers with Luke’s to give him something to hold on to, and Luke smiles, looking up at him with wonder.

“Yeah,” he says, “more than.”

Han laughs, breathless with it, and kisses him. Joy echoes between them, pure amazement at the fact that they have come to this place, together at last. Lovers, both loving and beloved, two parts of one whole.

Luke moans into Han’s mouth and arches up into him, taking him further into himself. Han’s breath leaves him in a strangled gasp, and he breaks free, gazing at the laughter in Luke’s eyes.

“You trying to kill me?” he asks, his voice hoarse. He moves his hands to Luke’s hips to keep him in place, his own muscles tensing with the effort of keeping still.

Luke just huffs impatiently, reaching up to brush his lips to the inside of Han’s jaw. “Trying to get you to move, more like,” he grumbles, dragging his fingernails along Han’s spine. “C’mon, Han,” Luke whispers against his lips. “I’m ready. I want you.” He raises his eyebrows. “Or do I have to do all the work around here?”

Han narrows his eyes. “Not on your life, kid,” he says. He grips Luke’s hips and drags back, pushing forward again in a long, slow slide.

Luke sighs and rolls his hips, meeting his next slow thrust, and a lazy smile forms on his lips, his face going lax with bliss.

“Good?” Han asks, because he can’t resist teasing him a little.

Luke rolls his eyes like he knows exactly what he’s on about and kisses him, hot and desperate. “You know damn well it’s good,” he says when they finally break apart, gasping into each other’s mouths.

Han smiles. “Good,” he says, and kisses Luke’s laughter from his lips.

Han takes his time making love to Luke, learning the shape of his body and how it responds to his own. They’re moving together so fluidly it feels as though they’ve been made for this, this rush of blazing heat and the endless push and pull between them. It’s an easy extension of their life together, both of them finding their refuge in each other.

Han takes his time, rocking deep inside his lover again and again until he hits the spot that makes Luke shout his name, his nails digging into Han’s back. Han smiles into Luke’s shoulder, tasting him sweet and salty on his tongue, dragging his lips over sensitive skin and thrilling in the noises Luke makes in response, bitten curses and breathy moans. Han takes his time, because loving Luke is something that should be savored, after long years of waiting and wishing, hardly daring to hope.

All the while, Luke says his name, over and over, a mantra and a prayer. His name sounds unaccountably beautiful coming from Luke’s lips, like he’s something to be cherished and held close, with wonder and amazement. Han kisses the sound of his name from Luke’s mouth, and their tongues tangle together, fingers holding on tight. They are closer than they’ve ever been before, as close as two people can be, and it is everything Han dreamed it would be.

All too soon, Luke is writhing beneath him, flushed and wanting. His erection is pulsing against Han’s body, hard with an ever-increasing need to match Han’s own. He hooks his legs around Han’s waist to urge him on, drawing him ever closer until they’re rocking together desperately, instinct taking control.

When Han feels the first juddering throes in his thighs, the fire beginning to coil tight at the base of his spine, he knows he won’t last much longer. He knows he can’t last much longer, not with the way Luke is tangling his fingers in his hair and fastening their lips together, kissing him hungrily, kissing with purpose.

“C’mon,” Luke gasps, his hips stuttering urgently, his breath fanning hot against Han’s lips. “Don’t you dare slow down.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Han grits out, grabbing hold of Luke’s hips and driving into him hard and fast, hitting that sweet spot every time. There is a time for teasing, but it is not now - now is the time for total abandon, reckless and wild and free.

Han can feel he is close now, and he knows Luke is too, in the way Luke is writhing beneath him, urging him on in an endless stream of gasps and moans. He is beautiful like this, Han thinks, flushed and sweaty and wanting, and he wonders if Luke knows what it does to Han, to be the one who gets to see him like this. Helpless against the feeling swelling within him, Han leans in to kiss Luke, trying to show him everything he feels. Luke kisses him back with a desperation to match Han’s own, his fingers gripping tight at Han’s waist.

“Han, please,” Luke moans, arching into him, and Han knows exactly what he wants, because it’s what he wants, too. Luke is a tight wet heat clenching around him with need, and Han can feel himself hard and throbbing with it. He knows the final push is coming, and it feels like the moment just before making the jump into lightspeed - everything seems to hang suspended in endless anticipation, and yet there can only be one inevitable conclusion. And as much as Han would like to draw this out, he knows they can only teeter on the edge together for so long - they have wasted enough time in waiting.

So Han leans in to fasten his lips to Luke’s, tangling their tongues together as he drinks in the taste of him, committing it to memory, determined not to forget a single second of this, no matter how many times they do this together. At the same time, he trails a palm along the side of Luke’s thigh, curving around his hip until he reaches where Luke wants him most. When he finally wraps his hand around Luke’s cock, Luke bites down hard on Han’s lower lip, breaking out of the kiss with a muffled curse.

“Fuck… Han!” he cries out, his fingers tightening on Han’s hips, the tightly coiled power in his grip driving Han wild.

Han brushes his lips to Luke’s as he drives into him hard and fast, quickly losing any semblance of control. “You close?” he whispers against Luke’s lips, and Luke nods tightly, his breath gusting hot across Han’s face. “Me too,” Han tells him, knowing Luke can feel it in every thrust of his hips, in every stroke of his hand. “I love you,” he says then, because it’s true, because he’s wasted enough time not saying it, because at this moment he’s so full of it he feels he could burst. “Come with me,” he says, his gaze locked on Luke’s face as Luke looks back up at him, his eyes as bright as any star.

It only takes a few more hard strokes to Luke’s cock before Luke is shouting his name and spasming beneath Han, spilling his release over his hand. It only takes a few more frantic thrusts of his hips before Han feels the fire within him bursting free at last, pleasure racing up his spine and setting every nerve alight. Utterly lost to it, Han tucks his face into Luke’s shoulder and shudders helplessly as he feels himself pulsing deep inside of Luke, giving him everything he has, as he means to do always.

***

Luke drifts for a long time, weightless pleasure suffusing every muscle in his body. He feels Han collapse heavily on top of him, but he can’t be bothered to shove him away, not when the warm weight of Han’s body on his is something he’s wanted for so long. He breathes in, letting the fresh air calm his dazzled senses and bring him slowly back to earth. He stretches lazily, his muscles responding sluggishly to his commands, and he sinks back into the bed with a sigh.

Han grumbles above him, his arm tightening around Luke’s waist and his hair brushing his chin as he squints up at him. “And just where d’you think you’re going?” he asks, his nose scrunching up in clear disapproval of plans to move anywhere in the near future.

Luke laughs helplessly in response, his fingers skating lightly down Han’s back as he presses a kiss to his forehead. “Nowhere that’s not with you, I hope,” he says, brushing Han’s hair back from his forehead and stroking cooling sweat away from his skin. “But we’re pretty messy - we’ll stick together soon, if we’re not careful.”

Han huffs a laugh. “I can think of worse people to be stuck with,” he says, his mouth twitching with good humor. “‘Sides, you’re already stuck with me, kid.”

“Don’t I know it,” Luke says, shaking his head. They are both silent for a few moments, hands stroking aimlessly over skin, touching for the sake of it. Then, when the needs of his body make themselves known even more insistently, he shifts uncomfortably. “Han? I love you, but I really would like a wash. Among… other things.” Han looks up at him and smirks, and Luke pokes him in the ribs. “You know what I mean,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Although… I would like to suck you off properly, after.”

Han raises his eyebrows, pretending to consider it. But Luke sees the way his pupils dilate, and he knows he’s already won. “Now that’s an offer if I ever heard one,” Han says, rolling off of Luke with a groan. He holds out a hand and Luke takes it with a smile, following him towards their shared bathroom.

In many ways, this new normal they’ve reached together feels intensely different, this freedom to love so deeply, holding nothing back. But in many ways, it also feels intensely familiar. Luke knows that he has always been too open with Han, always sharing more of himself with Han than he ever dared with anyone else, even Leia. This new intimacy is merely a natural extension of the relationship they already have, one built on a solid foundation of long years of friendship and trust. And as Luke gives himself to Han again, turning towards him under the spray of cool water, it’s why he knows that this will last. Because no matter what the future might hold, they will face whatever comes together.

***

E P I L O G U E

CORELLIA - FIVE YEARS LATER

In the space between one heartbeat and the next, Han blinks awake, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room. It was the rain that woke him, he thinks, listening to the quiet patter of raindrops against the windows. It’s a quiet, peaceful sound that must have registered somewhere deep within and pulled him out of restless dreams. He sighs and turns on his side, where he can just make out the curve of Luke’s body lying next to him, his lover’s breathing even and undisturbed in the silence that surrounds them.

His lover, Han marvels, wondering that he can still be turned breathless at the thought, even five years later. Five years since he and Luke had finally admitted their true feelings and found the home they had been searching for in each other. This home, though - the home that they built and lived in together - that came later, after years of hard work and compromises on everyone’s part. Han agreed to take a post on his homeworld, where he would work to smooth ruffled feathers and cement ties to the New Republic in a people with a history of mixed allegiances. Meanwhile, Luke was stationed on Corellia as well, with the understanding that he would be called on to serve as an Ambassador on an as-needed basis. It was a good deal, Han knew, and not a day passed by that he wasn’t grateful for the way things turned out. It was more than he ever thought to expect.

But as he listens to Luke’s quiet breathing in the dark, Han knows he won’t get back to sleep, not like this. With a regretful sigh, he sits up and snags a button up shirt from the floor and slides it on, letting it hang loose. He leans forward and gently brushes his lips to Luke’s bare shoulder, light as a whisper. Luke shifts and mumbles softly at the touch but does not wake, and Han smiles to himself as he slips out of bed. For a long time, such undisturbed sleep was a rare occurrence, both of them often startled awake by nightmares, memories of pain that still lingered, no matter how they tried to forget. But sleepless nights had become less common recently, as time began to heal old wounds and they learned to trust that someone would always be there to help them through it.

Lost in thought, Han pads out to the kitchen and turns the lights on to a soft glow, just enough to see by. He gets a kettle from the cupboard and fills it with water before bringing it to the stovetop and turning on the heat beneath it. He watches the flames flicker brightly, in a strange and beautiful dance of their own making, and he feels something in him loosen at the sight, a tightness in his chest he hadn’t even realized was there. Maybe it’s the routine that calms him, Han muses as he reaches for a mug, and then, after a moment’s consideration, he grabs Luke’s mug as well - just in case. He knows he could just as easily get something from the processor, but somehow it wouldn’t be the same.

As he waits for the water to heat, Han sits down at the kitchen table and kicks his feet up, his gaze wandering aimlessly around the room. Everywhere he looks, he can see evidence of the life he and Luke have built together, and the home they have made here. Luke’s shoes rest beside his on the mat by the door; his cloak hanging next to Han’s jacket above their shoes. Stray items of clothing belonging to both of them lie scattered about the living area, either draped over chairs for later or discarded in haste as their attention turned to… other activities. Some might call it messy, but Han thinks it gives the place a comforting, lived-in feel - a reminder that this is home and they’re here to stay, and that no one plans on leaving any time soon.

The kettle starts to whistle then, and he gets up to make the tea, using the herbal mix that he always favors whenever he has trouble sleeping. He stands by the counter and sips the tea, the minutes slipping by as he listens to the wind and the rain. Just beyond the confines of their little house, he can hear the ever-present roar of the sea as waves crash upon the shore. It’s a bit like love, Han thinks - you know it’s always there, even if you can’t see it.

As he stands there, he senses a presence at the edge of his awareness, the soft hum of another mind alongside his own. Luke. That had been something else to get used to, when they bonded - knowing they would be bonded in word, in body, and in soul, knowing that Luke would always be with him in the most intimate of ways. The idea had scared him at first - there were some things in his mind even he didn’t like to look at too closely. But giving his mind to Luke, along with everything else, had been easy. There wasn’t anything about himself he didn’t want to share with Luke; there wasn’t anything he didn’t want Luke to see. So when he feels the warm brush of Luke’s mind against his own, not pushing, simply there if he wants him, Han doesn’t startle. Instead, he turns his smile into his mug and reaches back in a mental caress. It’s okay.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Luke asks, coming up behind him and pressing his lips to Han’s skin just above the collar or his shirt.

“Nah,” Han says, turning his head to capture Luke’s mouth in a kiss, slow and sweet. “‘S’okay, though. Been out here listening to the rain.”

“Mmmm,” Luke hums, nudging his nose against Han’s, his eyes slipping closed as he breathes him in. He leans in close, his palm sliding under Han’s shirt and along his waist. “Tea?” he asks, and Han chuckles helplessly as fondness curles inside him. He presses the mug into Luke’s waiting hands and brushes a chaste kiss to Luke’s lips.

“Two steps ahead of you, kid,” he tells him.

“You always were,” Luke agrees with a small smile.

They sip their tea in silence for a while, standing side by side in the comfortable warmth of their kitchen, in this home they’ve made together. Han is feeling pleasantly drowsy again, thanks to the combination of tea and the rain and Luke. Maybe he could even get back to sleep, like this. He sets his mug back down on the counter, putting his arms around Luke and holding him close.

“Bed?” he asks huskily, his fingers slipping beneath Luke’s sleep shorts, seeking out the smooth skin beneath. He feels Luke’s response in the hitch in his breathing and the flush on his cheeks, in the way he leans in to the touch.

”I think so,” Luke says, setting his mug down beside Han’s. He turns into Han’s embrace and reaches up to twist his fingers into Han’s hair, bringing him down those few inches to ceus their lips together, and then it’s just like always. Han feels heat flare deep within him, every nerve set on fire as they kiss each other hungrily. He moans into the kiss, his hands wandering down Luke’s back and curving over his ass, gripping him tight and pulling him close. Luke gasps into his mouth and presses closer, his fingers tightening in Han’s hair as he deepens the kiss and tangles their tongues together. They rock in tandem, hands wandering as one kiss turns into another, and another, and another. They kiss until they are breathless with it, until they break away breathless and flushed.

Luke takes a deep, steadying breath, his eyes locked on Han’s. “Come to bed,” he says, twining their fingers together.

Han nods, his throat tightening with emotion. He’ll never get used to this, no matter how many kisses they share, no matter how many times they go to bed together. He is overcome with wonder and amazement that they have made it here, together, and he hopes the feeling will never fade.

“Luke,” he says, “I love you.”

Luke’s eyes light up like he hasn’t heard it a thousand times before, like he can’t quite believe his good luck, and when he leans in to whisper his answer against Han’s lips, Han also hears it in his mind and feels it in his soul. I love you too.

They make their way back to their bedroom, clothes slipping to the floor in their wake, fingers tracing over warmed skin. As they fall together on the bed, the rain moves on, leaving behind a cloudless sky. Back inside, Luke pushes into Han in one long slide and Han cries out, his fingers clenching tight at Luke’s hips. Luke rocks into him again and again, worshipping his body with lips and teeth and tongue until Han is shuddering beneath him. Then, for one shining, endless moment, pleasure races through him, and, as if from a great distance, he hears Luke gasp his name and feels him collapse on top of him.

The weight of his body against Han’s is solid and comforting, more familiar than he had ever dreamed possible. Han pulls him close and presses his lips to Luke’s forehead as he gently wipes them clean with the corner of the sheet, and Luke mumbles sleepily in response. He turns his face into Han’s shoulder, curving an arm around his waist and tangling their legs together, clearly not planning on moving any time soon.

Han strokes his fingers through Luke’s soft hair, letting the sound of the waves lull him into sleep while the stars wink in the sky above. He falls asleep that night with a smile on his face, knowing that wherever he goes with Luke, he is home. Luke is his home, and he couldn’t ask for anything more.

***

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Notes:

The idea for Luke liking spicy food is inspired by jessebee’s wonderful fic Some Like It Hot, which you should definitely go read ASAP if you haven’t already.


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